


Hearts of Rage

by memorydoll



Series: Hearts [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, Yearning, and finally, and maybe a kiss, but also mutual anger, dubious use of hypnosis, everything gets acknowledged, gallifrey gets acknowledged, including 2 classic refs if you can spot em, is it not enough to watch two idiots destroy each other, jack is there too but only a little, mentions of fam, missy gets acknowledged, must a story have fluff, no plot only jail, rated t for hand holding, shameless disregard of how prisons really work, slaps roof of fic, this bad boy can fit so many references to past episodes in it, with a bittersweet ending, written before the trailer dropped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27963749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorydoll/pseuds/memorydoll
Summary: A moment was all she needed.A minute to think. A second to breathe.In her cell, in the depth of space, her wish was granted. She didn’t try to escape. She didn’t fight back.For the first time in centuries, the Doctor stopped running.And she was going to bring the Master down with her.
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Series: Hearts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048012
Comments: 26
Kudos: 38





	1. In Death

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to get back into writing after years and this is the first time I really forced myself to finish something. The entire story is already written so expect around 10.4k words overall. I’m still doing some final edits before uploading but I plan to update every 2-3 days at most. I've got a sequel planned too but it's still in the Outlining Phase so it'll probably take me longer to post

The stars were too far away.

Every day, the universe was expanding further out of her reach.

The Doctor was being left behind.

In her first days, she used them to keep track of time. Some of them she could recognize just by estimating the distance, or charting the shapes of the constellations in her mind. Others she imagined to be whatever she’d like – from Akhaten to Women Wept to Clom. Every planet had a story and every story kept her company, kept her alive.

And then there was Earth. Always Earth. There were days she could swear every drop of light in the dead of space was Earth. Each cut out from a different time, a different life, a different memory. Each representing all the people she had left behind. 

Yaz, Ryan, and Graham. Her fam.

 _They think I’m dead,_ she was reminded every time. _Maybe it’s for the best._

The only planet she refused to think about was Gallifrey.

Now, the infinite space outside her window weighed heavily against the endless time she was sentenced to spend inside her cell – her source of comfort twisted into another form of cruelty. 

She picked up a piece of chalk to mark her days instead. White dust stained her fingers as she carved another line on the wall.

_Day 1056._

A deep sigh left her body. Another day passed, and not a single second in the remaining eternity.

She stepped back for a moment, admiring her work. The white markings were the only thing to brighten up the room. Soon they’d fill up the entire wall, and then… She tore her gaze away. She dreaded to think of the day they’d cover every inch of her cell.

Lying on her back, against the cold, hard floor, she let herself get lost in the dark of the ceiling. For one blissful moment, her mind was blank. Then came the memories – the same images that have been haunting her since she set foot on another TARDIS and ran away. The Master’s voice still ringing in her ears. _Don’t you dare._

Her hand wrapped tighter around the chalk, her eyes closing by instinct. As if retreating further into her mind could provide an escape.

But the memories only grew sharper. The dust in the air. The fragments of glass on the ground. The stench of smoke and decay at every turn.

The sound of an explosion so big – an explosion she could not see or hear but _feel_. 

She knew. Ko Sharmus detonated the Death Particle.

The Master was dead.

Something flared in her chest, and she opened her eyes. Her finger was hovering over the chalk, as if ready to press down. For a moment, she stared at it. For a second, she almost did.

She wanted to know how it would feel.

Then she bolted up, and hurled the piece of stone against the wall at full force. Her eyes were fixed on the floor now. Her hearts drumming in her ears.

_He might still be alive._

The thought crossed her mind too often, and the familiar words stung. There was a hope in them she wasn’t allowed to voice. Her jaw tightened.

_He’s lived through worse before._

She shook her head.

“No,” she breathed. “No one could survive that. I’ll make sure of it.”

::::::::

The Doctor sat in her cell for a long time, and waited.

Meals weren’t given to the prisoners on a regular basis. Most days, she didn’t notice. Licking the chalk powder off her fingers was all the sustenance she needed. But meal time was the only opportunity she had to come face to face with a guard. This time, she’d be ready for it.

When the hatch in her door opened, she was on her feet in seconds. The Judoon in front of her slammed a plate of unidentified sludge on the floor, not even sparing her a glance, then turned towards the next cell in line.

Before he could close the hatch, her hand shot out, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him back towards her. “Wait!”

“Prisoners are not allowed to leave their cells.” He shook her arm off with force, his voice severe and lacking any sign of patience. “Not even one finger. You could be sent to solitary confinement for this. To the dungeons.”

Very briefly, she flinched. She drew her arm back. And then took a step closer, maintaining eye contact. He wasn’t going to intimidate her. Not now.

“I have information,” she said.

“That’s no concern of mine.”

“It should be. It’s regarding a dangerous criminal.”

“I doubt it.” The guard wasn’t impressed, but he didn’t move. He kept watching her, as if the desperation in her voice was amusing to him. She’d never seen an amused Judoon before.

“I mean it. This man terrorized countless planets. He views genocide as a side hobby. And he’s escaped execution before.” She was talking a mile a minute, making use of every second she still had the Judoon’s attention. “I know just where you can find him.”

“And who exactly is this man?”

She paused for a second, calculating. She never had anything to bargain with before. “If I tell you that, will it help my case? Could it shorten my sentence?”

“We’d have to be sure your information is accurate. I can’t promise anything,” the Judoon stared her down. “But no.”

Right.

Judoon law was never one for favors.

She continued anyway.

“You can look him up on the Fatality Index. Search for his name under cause of death.”

Her voice was clear, her words precise, but as she spoke she felt like nothing but a spectator, watching from the sidelines.

“It’s the Master.”

::::::::

Days passed, then weeks. The empty space on her wall was becoming extinct.

No one told her anything. No guards came near her cell, not even to deliver a meal.

She could only reach one conclusion. Her information was useless. They couldn’t find the Master, because he was already dead. Reduced to ash by the Death Particle, and scattered in the Gallifrey wind. Buried in his own destruction. Somehow, it was fitting. 

But then the corridor outside her cell came alive.

Screams of protest and threats of a painful demise resounded from the outside and she knew she was wrong.

The ruckus shifted her into focus. She was more lucid than she had been in years.

_It’s him._

She ran up to her door, sliding the hatch to the right just a little, and snuck a glance at the scene.

Dressed in a red jumper matching her own, hands cuffed behind his back and escorted by four Judoon guards was the Master. He was wrestling them all the way, his eyes bloodshot and his hair a mess. He looked just as she’d remembered him. And he was being shoved closer and closer in her direction.

She reached to close the hatch, but she wasn’t quick enough.

In an instant, his screams died down. His eyes locked on hers. The light reflected off them in a way that almost made it seem like he’d been crying, but his nostrils flared and his lips pursed in an expression she knew well. An anger mixed with betrayal.

Then, before she could react, the door to the cell next to hers opened and he was pushed inside. The sound of the lock clicking echoed in the now silent corridor.

She slid the hatch shut before the Judoon could spot her, heartbeat accelerating, and took a step back.

She wasn’t supposed to see him.

This wasn’t what she wanted.

He was close now. Too close. If she closed her eyes and focused, she could sense him on the other side of the wall.

Breathing slowly, and walking even softer, she approached the wall separating them.

Before she could think better of it, her forehead pressed against the cool stone, and her hand formed into a fist.

One knock. Two. Three. Four.

Just loud enough for him to notice.

Her eyes closed in anticipation. A soft exhale escaped between her lips.

There was no reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly setup the real Drama starts in chapter 2
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are highly appreciated!!


	2. In Vain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who commented and left kudos!! This story already got so much more attention than I was expecting I really can't thank you enough

The silence in her cell felt different now.

Before, it was natural. Expected. She could easily fill it by talking to herself or tapping against the concrete.

Now, it was as if the entire prison was holding its breath. The silence was deliberate. Mocking. Daring her to break. The Master’s presence, so close, so out of reach, was overwhelming. She could almost sense him, sulking in his own corner of the prison.

But she’d given him his chance to talk. She wouldn’t try again.

::::::::

The Doctor was sprawled against the wall, eyes blinking shut with the threat of sleep, when a clear sound cut through from the other side.

Four knocks.

Soft. Decisive. The rhythm unrushed and well-known.

He was seven days late.

Her eyes fluttered open, and in an instant she was awake. Still sitting, she turned to face the wall, matching his beat as she knocked back.

For a moment, there was nothing. And then-

“Contact.”

The Master, clear inside her head. She rose to her feet.

“Contact.”

“Why am I here, Doctor?”

His voice was coming at her from two directions, lashing at her mind and echoing from beyond the wall.

“In a prison?” she taunted, but kept her tone leveled. “Do you really need to ask?”

He laughed, bitter and brief. “I suppose not. What I mean to say is, why did _you_ bring me here?”

“Because you deserve it,” she said, drawing out the syllables to sting.

“Ah. I have to admit, I’m offended. All those years, and you end up calling the cops on me?” He sighed, and she could feel him shaking his head in disapproval. “You always did love letting others handle the dirty work.”

Her hands balled into fists. Half bitten nails scratched at her skin. “You took the lives of billions. You desecrated our home. You don’t get to lecture me about dirty work.”

“In case you failed to notice, Doctor, you’re just as locked up as I am.” His tone was low now, dangerous. “You don’t get to lecture me about anything.”

“That is not the same,” she bit back.

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged. “What are you in for?”

She stayed silent.

“Can’t hear you, darling.”

When she spoke again, her words came out disjointed. “I don’t know.”

“Hm,” he scoffed. “I could wager a few guesses. The Daleks, the Racnoss, the Saturnyns. You’re not short on genocide yourself.”

A chill ran down her spine with every name on the list, and her voice turned to ice. She gritted her teeth as she spoke. “Not. The same.”

“You nearly did it to Gallifrey.”

It was quiet, the words barely a whisper in her mind, but enough to fracture her like glass, so ancient she forgot she could be this fragile.

“I had no choice!” She glared in his direction, knowing he could feel it. “You had no reason.”

“I had every right.”

“I’m not having this discussion with you,” she declared with enough venom to drown in, and turned her back to the wall. “You’re beyond saving.”

She cut the connection with all the force of slamming a door.

Maybe she shouldn’t have sent for him. Now they were each other’s punishment.

They didn’t talk after that.

The Doctor sat and stewed, almost grateful for the anger simmering in the back corners of her consciousness. It was terrible, but it was new – a contrast to the numbing emptiness of her cell.

She wanted to break through the wall and see that his suffering was a match to hers. She wanted to forget that he was there at all.

But the Master was becoming increasingly harder to ignore.

The next day, the noise started. Coming from his cell, subtle but insistent – pounding and scraping and cursing. Stone on concrete on metal.

Every sound set her on high alert. Every time he seemed to be getting more desperate, clawing and clanging with little break, making enough noise to warrant the attention of a guard. But no one came. Every day, she was left to sit through it, alone.

The loud clatter of metal hitting the ground was her breaking point.

She connected to his mind.

“Contact.”

All at once, the noise stopped.

“Contact.”

“What are you doing?” she asked, lacking in patience but brimming with accusation.

He wasn’t fazed. “Building a gun out of the bars.”

“How?”

“By hypnotizing them.”

She nearly laughed. “You can’t hypnotize metal.”

“Maybe you can’t.”

“Right.” She paused. He was always good at the mind games. “How’s that going?”

He let out a long, frustrated breath. “Slowly.” 

A single dreadful moment stretched as his words set in, and passed leaving her empty.

“You’re going to escape,” she said, the words falling flat as they left her mouth.

“You can’t stop me, Doctor. Not from your own cell.”

“I’m not going to.” Her tone was sharp now. “I was just calling to make a noise complaint.”

“Hm.” There were gears turning in his head. She could almost feel them, pushing against her own. He was scheming. She didn’t like it. “I could tone down the noise. For a price.”

_There it is._

“What do you want?”

“The hatch, in your door. You got it to open. How?”

“Really?” she teased. “You need me to spell it out for you?”

“Answer the question, Doctor.”

“What about the Cyberium? All that brilliant strategy, and you’re asking me?”

“It’s gone.” There was a particular bitterness in his voice, one she heard before but couldn’t quite place. “Left me, as soon as the Death Particle went off.”

She nodded, only slightly. “Good.”

“The hatch, Doctor.”

“It’s embedded in the door. You can’t pry it open. Wait for meal time. A guard will open it for you. When he shuts it, make sure it stays open just a crack. It’s easy to temper with after that.”

“Thank you,” he said, more tentative than celebratory. “You’ve been… surprisingly helpful.”

He hung up.

When he got back to work, it was barely audible. He’d kept his end of the bargain.

::::::::

Meal time came and went.

The Doctor spent her days pacing up and down the length of her cell. Whatever the Master was planning, he’d be ready to act soon. Whatever was going to happen, she’d have the perfect view.

He was working less and less every day. She’d gotten used to putting her ear to the wall, straining to hear any sign he was still there, confirmation he hadn’t gotten away while she was asleep.

The last few days were silent.

She was pressed against the wall, rough concrete under weak hands and grazing at her skin, when he startled her. It was the same beat of four knocks – a request for permission.

“Contact,” she said, giving it to him.

“Contact.”

“Come to say goodbye?” She took a step back from the wall, the thought of him standing so close on the other side suddenly unsettling.

“Why are you still here, Doctor?” he asked, demanding and gentle in the same breath. “I know you. When are you going to run?”

Her hearts sank in her chest. “I’m not.”

“Come on. Sitting still doesn’t suit you.”

“Maybe I like it here.”

“Trapped between four walls? With only the stars to mock you as they disappear?” he pushed. “Please. You’ve always got a plan.”

“Need help with yours? Is that it?”

“No.” He paused, hesitated. “I’m all set.”

_Oh._

She froze, stare fixed straight ahead, as if trying to catch a glimpse of him from beyond the wall. She couldn’t tell what else he wanted.

“Then go.”

“I could- You could-“ She was rooted to her spot, head throbbing as he searched for the words. “Come with me.”

“Don’t,” she muttered, harsh.

“I owe you one.”

She remembered. Missy. The execution. The vault.

“Please. Don’t.”

She couldn’t be at his side again, no matter how temporary, no matter how tempting.

His voice was only just above a whisper. “You’d rather stay here?”

Something in her ached, enough to snatch her breath away.

“Yes.”

He didn’t say anything else.

She blinked, and the connection was gone.

::::::::

Heavy footsteps slammed against the floor of the corridor at a steady pace. A patrolling guard, coming their way.

The Doctor didn’t peek. Instead, she waited, anticipation tearing at her nerves.

The Master acted fast.

A faint _woosh_ sounded – the hatch in his door sliding open. “Excuse me,” he called in the direction of the guard, a hint of ridicule in his voice. “Where can I get some service around here?”

The footsteps stopped. The guard must’ve been looking around the cells, searching for the source of the disturbance. Then, all at once, he sped up.

Metal clashed against metal, the guard’s gun versus the door to the Master’s cell. An intimidation tactic the Doctor was already familiar with. 

“Get back in your cell,” the guard ordered.

“I am in my cell,” the Master replied.

There was a grunt – low and rough and distinctly Judoon – followed by the sound of an object hitting the ground.

The Doctor cracked open her hatch, just enough to see him. The Master was holding the guard by the collar of his uniform, gun knocked far out of reach.

“See?” The Master’s grin was heard sharp and clear through his voice, setting her on edge. He was enjoying this.

He pulled the guard further in. A low thud resounded as the Master struck – a solid, silver object aimed at the back of the guard’s head. The guard began to slide down and away from the Master’s grip, but he caught him. His hands were quick, searching the guard’s pockets and soon coming out with the key – a card shaped like a black rectangle, engraved with an intricate blue design.

He dropped the dead weight of the guard. Struggling against the hatch, he stretched his hand out to the right.

If the Doctor did the same now, she could grab it.

Last chance to stop him.

She watched, breath held, and he slammed his hand against the lock. The door to his cell flew open.

He took one step out, his face entering her line of sight. Satisfaction was set on every single one of his features – in the curl of his lips, the upward tilt of his chin, the shine of his eyes.

And then an alarm boomed through the speakers.

“Alert! Alert! Escape attempt ongoing at Sector 13! Offenders will be sent to the dungeons indefinitely.”

The Master whirled in his spot. Two more guards approached, each from an opposite end of the corridor.

“Alert! Alert!”

The Doctor shut the hatch. She wouldn’t be caught watching.

Two shots fired outside. One body fell to the ground, too heavy to be the Master’s.

“Escape attempt ongoing!”

The ground trembled under the rush of oncoming back up. Soon, he’d be surrounded.

Bullets raced through the air. Blood raced in her ears. She clutched the piece of chalk in her hand tight, like an old man with a crutch, like it was something to lean on, and braced herself. 

_Any moment now._

The door to her cell opened.

Face to face with the Master, she froze. The expression on his face was a familiar one. Hurt, and looking to hurt her back.

Behind him, the guards were closing in.

She took a defiant step back.

“There they are!” one of the guards exclaimed.

The Master grabbed her by the arm. His nails dug through her skin as he forced her out of the cell, and she thrashed in his grip.

She knew what he was doing. She recognized his thought pattern for a reason she loathed to admit – she shared it.

There was no way out. Only one option left.

He was going to take her down with him, all the way to the dungeons. 

The guards were on them in an instant, knocking the Master’s makeshift weapon out of his grasp and cuffing their hands behind their backs.

“Take them away,” another guard ordered.

Two stood to their side, pushing them forward. Two more joined them in the back. There was nothing they could do now. 

“You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” he muttered, low and rugged, eyes pointed straight ahead.

But it wasn’t a question. 

She didn’t need to tell him he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading!  
> 


	3. In Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very late update! Real life got me busy and I didn't want to post this chapter before I was happy with it. I'll try to get chapter 4 out sooner but it's the longest one so no promises

The dungeons were a death sentence. A single glance across the room made that clear.

Located in the bottom level of the prison, the air was hot and stifling. Cells lined each side of the floor, but the bars were rusty, outdated and broken out of shape. The guards didn’t force the Doctor and the Master inside. Instead, a heavy set of doors sealed off the entire chamber. Dust and rock and shavings of metal littered the ground. Tallies were scattered across the walls, carved in white and painted in red. There were no windows, no people, no hope.

In the corner of her eye, the Doctor caught a glimpse of the Master.

It was just them.

Neither of them willingly stepped into the decaying cells. As soon as the doors locked behind them, the Master stormed off to the center of the corridor. Sitting down between two cells, his legs stretched like a border, restricting access to the rest of the small room. 

The Doctor watched him for a brief moment. She waited for something to happen, but he didn’t move a muscle, glare purposefully pointed at the opposite end of the room. Careful not to make a sound, she settled for a spot in the corner near the door. Her back slid down against the stone wall. Her fingers dug into the ground and came away covered in dust. She opened her palm to find the piece of chalk still there. Slowly, she marked another tally on the wall next to her.

_Day 1._

Her plan had backfired. The Master was supposed to be locked here, alone, contained and far away. Now he was sitting directly in her line of sight, nothing standing between them but the distance they created themselves.

For the longest time, they said nothing.

The ground grew rough against her body. The air reeked of corrosion. 

Her eyes drifted across the room. When they landed on him, he was staring right back. This was probably the longest he’d ever seen her like this, so static and unmoving, and she tensed under the scrutiny of his gaze.

She was about to look away when he spoke.

“Aren’t you going to apologize?” he asked, like he’s been waiting.

“For what?”

“For Gallifrey. For Paris. For running away and trapping me here.” There was no anger in him. Only resignation.

“Why would I?” She studied him, any semblance of an apology restrained at the tip of her tongue. “You never did.”

He nodded – a curt movement in her direction – and averted his gaze before drawing in an even sharper breath. “I’m not going to.”

“Good,” she said. “I hate it when you lie.”

Laughter broke between his lips. “Don’t you ever get tired of being so hypocritical? Setting rules for others not even you can follow?”

“We’re not the same,” she repeated.

“No,” he said, and there was pain in the admission. “But we’re guilty of the same crime.”

It was the same argument they’ve been having for centuries, the same push and pull, the same cycle of running and reaching and hurting.

“I said I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Why? Because I’m beyond saving?” He got up, crossed the room, and in seconds he was in front of her. His knees on the ground, his face at her level, but maintaining enough distance so she’d still have to reach out to touch. She drew her legs close, her eyes locked on his in a glare. “I know. I’m not the one in denial. You think the dead care for your noble intentions?”

“Of course not.” This close, every movement of his eyes stood out as they searched her face. Dark and restless and unrelenting. She didn’t give him a chance to speak. “You didn’t have to kill them all.”

“I wanted to. I’m not going to justify it.”

“Because you can’t.”

He bared his teeth, enunciating every word. “Because you won’t understand.”

“Try me,” she challenged, leaning forward just an inch so her back was no longer pressed to the wall.

“No,” he hissed. “The fact you need me to spell it out for you proves there’s no point.”

“I don’t believe that.”

His jaw clenched, lips pressed in a scowl. His eyes filled with an intensity pleading her to back down.

She moored herself to the spot, not breaking eye contact, and her fingers tightened around the chalk still secured in her left hand. It was a small movement, but he caught it.

“What’s in your hand?” he asked. An obvious attempt to change the subject.

“Nothing,” she insisted. “Tell me.”

Forceful fingers closed around her wrist and pulled her arm forward, holding it in the space between them. The sudden movement nearly cost her balance, but her fist stayed shut.

The palm of his hand was warm. His grip firm, but painless. The last time her hand was in his was so distant, so different; all empty threats and forced showmanship. When she looked up to meet his eyes, they were fixed on where they touched. His body turned rigid, like he was made of stone, his brows slightly furrowed. Ever so slowly, his thumb brushed against the base of her palm.

Her breaths grew heavy in her chest. She couldn’t tell if this was his way of politely asking her to show him what she’s hiding, or-

No. That’s all it could be.

Reluctantly, she unclenched her fist.

His gaze flicked up to her face, then back down to the center of her palm.

“It’s a rock,” he said. Letting go of her arm, he took the small stone out of her hand. He ran his fingers across its surface and white powder fell against his dark skin. “Chalk.”

His eyes snapped up to meet hers, frantic and wide. Then to the walls – the tallies carved all around them, groups of eight notches unified under a big X.

“You’ve been here before,” he breathed, and there was an anguished sort of understanding in his voice. “How long has it been for you, Doctor?”

Her hands clutched at the fabric of her prison uniform, slender fingers burrowing into the skin beneath.

She didn’t need him to know.

“I’m not sure,” she said eventually, and her attention drifted back to the walls. “Years since I started counting.”

“You tried to escape.”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t go well.”

She shook her head once. “They kept me here for a long time. Only remembered to let me out when another prisoner was brought in.”

When he spoke, it was without emotion. “They’re waiting for us to die.”

“Yeah.”

She followed his eyes as he scanned the walls a second time, slower than before. Counting the days.

“Why do you bother?” he asked, voice small and eyes huge.

“Time,” she shrugged. “It’s all there is here. The silent tick of an invisible clock.”

In her isolation, it was deafening.

The passage of time, never ending, never slower, cut and ate away at her until all she could do was write it down.

“Doesn’t it kill you?” he continued, so gentle his tone could almost be mistaken for concern. “Watching the days pile up, counting up for eternity towards nothing?”

“I’m traveling through time, same as always,” she said, an attempt at optimism ringing hollow. “I’m charting the journey.”

“And what will you do when you run out of space?”

She had no answer to that.

Taking the chalk back from his hand, fingers barely scraping his skin, she focused only on the stone as she spoke the first words that came to her mind. “I’ll run.”

It wasn’t a real option. Running would only carry her between the dungeons and her cell. But it was the only solution she knew.

“Right.”

Without another word, the Master got up.

She looked up just in time to see him make his way back to his previous spot, the sudden vacancy before her jarring. Each step he took echoed and stung, but his shoulders slumped, and he carried himself with all the purpose of a wounded animal, not stopping until he reached the end of the corridor.

Arms crossed and legs drawn, he sat down again, back turned in silent retaliation. Because she was nothing but a thief on the run, and in the whole of time and space he could never be the one to make her settle – whether in conquest or in death.

Now, bound together and encased in stone, the spot where he touched her turned cold with the same bite of being left behind.


	4. In Chains

Every time she marked another day, the Doctor caught the Master looking. It was brief and small and just barely noticeable, but the scratch of rock against concrete always got his attention. 

Or maybe it was her, instinctively turning in his direction with every new notch, the simple action a reminder of their last conversation.

This was day 6.

The Doctor paced through the dungeons, inspecting the bars and the floors with an absent mind, a routine she grew tired of during her first visit. She never bothered with the entrance doors. Experience taught her there was no breaking through them.

The Master sat inside one of the broken cells, throwing stones at the wall, his back arched against the loose bars and stare pointed at something she couldn’t see. 

They spent the past few days living carefully around each other, an unspoken rule keeping them several feet apart at all times – a pair of stars each equally locked in the other’s orbit.

Stone shattered, again and again, and the sound drew her near him against her will. She moved between the cells, only aiming for a peek, silent feet carrying her through the ruckus of his game, until she stood in the cell right behind him.

On the wall, right in the center of his cell, was a big, perfectly round stain, flecked with the white and grey of the rocks collided with it. Thin cracks spiraled from its center.

He was playing target practice.

A single light bulb hung from the ceiling between them, crooked and cracked and casting him in just enough light to make him glow. She took the time to appreciate the curve of his cheekbone, the purse of his lips as he focused on a throw. He dominated the spotlight, and around him everything else turned to shadow.

Another rock thrown at the wall exploded into dust. His hands fumbled on the ground in search of another victim, but came up empty. With no warning, he turned around.

The Doctor moved fast, turning back to the bars surrounding her, and did the first thing she could think of to act casual. She touched her hand to the metal, and tasted the rust off her fingers.

Wide eyes met hers, alarmed at the proximity for a whole second before his brows furrowed at her actions. She looked at him expectantly, but he only relaxed.

“Pass me another rock, will you?” he said, hand already held out, head turned back and away from her.

“You’re not going to break through the wall, you know,” she said. Ignoring his hand, she gently kicked a nearby stone through the open door.

He tossed it in his hands once before answering. “I’ve got enough time.”

“But not enough rocks.” She hesitated, but leaned against the doorway. “How many have you broken already without making a dent?”

“Breaking things is my specialty,” he shrugged. “I can always use my hands.”

“There’s every possibility this wall leads directly into space.”

“I know,” he said, and flung the rock at the wall, straight at the target, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “It is fun though.”

The stone bounced back this time, unbroken. He bent forward to reach for it, but the Doctor’s foot blocked his path. With a grin, she picked it up herself.

“My turn,” she beamed and aimed at the dark patch, hitting the perfect middle. She spoke again with triumph. “I see what you mean.”

“That’s not fair,” he protested. “You’re standing up. You’re closer to the target. Get down to my level.”

“Fine.” Sparing one careful glance in his direction, she stepped inside the small cell, picked up the stone and sat down on the opposite side of the door.

“Go on,” he urged, his eyes on her, eager, as if he alone could make her stumble.

She forced her attention back to the wall and took another shot. The stone only scraped the bottom, and he laughed.

“Don’t look too smug,” the Doctor chided. “You’ve been practicing all day. This game is still unbalanced.”

“You’re letting one lucky shot go to your head,” he said, gloating. “Typical.”

“I can do it again. It’s all just physics.”

He took the stone from where it landed. “Might I remind you my degree in cosmic science is higher for a reason?”

“Physics is _not_ cosmic science,” she retorted. “Besides, I was a late developer.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips. “It’s a wonder you’re developing at all considering you’ve been licking the walls all day.”

“Hey!” she called, her face pulled in a scronch. “Just the bars. Rust tastes good. A bit like blood, actually.”

He laughed again, but it wasn’t mocking. This time, there was something beautiful about it. The slow shake of his head, the smile spread on his lips; genuine and unfiltered and almost affectionate. And she laughed too.

Very briefly, they were back at the academy, copying each other’s homework and sabotaging time experiments. Then the Master cleared his throat, and looked in the other direction. Her smile fell.

She wanted to regret the change, but she knew better.

Nostalgia was dangerous.

In the heat of the dungeons and the confines of the cell, silence stretched out before them.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” she said eventually, voice small, eyes searching a reaction from the back of his head.

“Tell you what?” He turned only halfway, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

“Why you went so far.” Her hands clenched against the dusty floor. “I get- I get your anger at the Time Lords. At the Division and the High Council-“

“No, you don’t.”

“-But no one else deserved this. You destroyed the entire planet.”

He studied her face like trying to fathom the other end of a black hole, like he was contemplating something. Gentle, he said, “Is there any answer that would satisfy you?”

“No,” she breathed, gaze flicking away from him for just a second. “But-“

“Then stop.”

“I want to understand. I’m _trying_ to give you a chance-“

“I don’t _want_ your chances!” he roared, hands snapping into fists, leaning just a little bit closer. “I’ve had enough of that.”

“Then what do you want?”

He faced the wall again, back slamming against the bars. He spoke with his eyes closed and a loud huff. “A quicker death.”

She had nothing to say. She only watched as his eyes fluttered open, peeking at her without moving.

“Maybe you should’ve used the Death Particle when you had the chance.”

Her hearts dropped, heavy in her chest, the memory of the bomb in her hand still fresh in her mind. “You survived it.”

“Yeah.” A smile twisted his lips, but it was rotten. “I bet you would’ve survived too.”

“No amount of regeneration energy could heal organic matter that isn’t there. You know that.”

“Do I?”

“Yes,” she stressed. “That hasn’t changed.”

“Do you regret it?” he asked, and there was something raw in the way his eyes skipped over her face. “One press of your thumb. That’s all it took.”

“No.” Her reply was instant, certain.

“We’re being buried alive, Doctor.” For the first time, his eyes locked on hers. “Wouldn’t you rather go out in flames?”

“What difference does it make to you?”

“I could suffocate and starve a dozen times,” he said. “You’d still be here.”

“We don’t know that.”

“You wouldn’t put it to the test.”

She stopped, then steeled herself. “Do you really want to know why?”

“You ran,” he stated, with only the slightest hint of contempt. “It’s instinct. It’s in your blood.”

Shame rose from the pit of her stomach, but quickly drowned under a wave of spite. “I ran because I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“You needed me to stay,” she declared, without mercy. “But why would I give you that?”

His jaw tightened, barely visible, as if struggling to swallow the poison in her words. He wouldn’t even look at her, but she remained still, transfixed in his shadow.

“You could still kill me here,” she said after a pause, much softer than intended. “We could kill each other. Is that what you want?”

For a long time, he only stared.

“I wanted you to end it.”

“And now?”

“I don’t want anything.”

A desire to comfort him, as old as time, begged for indulgence and wormed its way between her hearts. But she knew too well – they were centuries past the point where she could offer him comfort. Centuries past the point where she could trust him to provide any warmth in return.

The quiet bent around them, distorting and calm, and she knew he wouldn’t speak again. She didn’t get up.

Instead, she mirrored him from the other end of the cell, staring straight ahead, the weight of their words threatening to unravel her from the within.

She stared, and the target on the wall took up most of her vision. She stared, the perfect circle covered in fissures and surrounded by ruin, and all she saw was a broken citadel on a planet she once called home.

She stared, and stared, and stared, until there was no doubt in her mind he saw it too.

::::::::

She woke in the same cell, in the same position, in the same quiet. When she looked to the left, the Master was no longer there. A pang of regret tugged at her, sending her into a frantic search, eyes darting around the room.

He was much closer than she expected. Only a few cells over, leaning against a half-open door that seemed to be stuck in its place. His legs pointed in her direction, but his attention was on something else.

Steady, long fingers tapped lightly against the concrete floor. At first, she assumed he was drumming the familiar four beat rhythm of their hearts, but the movement was too quick, too irregular, too soft.

The expression on his face was one she hadn’t seen in this body yet.

With a faint breath, she realized. “You’re playing the piano.”

He faltered, but didn’t stop. She wondered if he could hear the music.

“Satie’s _Gnossienne No. 1_ ,” he said. “I did always like it.”

An image of Missy flashed before her eyes, playing the same tune. It was a habit forged in captivity.

“I remember,” she said, and guilt pricked at her. “I liked it when you played.”

The rhythm slowed as she spoke. His fingers hung in midair. When he finally looked at her, his eyes were big and glassy and earnest in a way she’d never seen before.

“When did you give up on me, Doctor?”

It was a simple question, but the tenderness in his voice took her by surprise and pierced clean through her hearts.

“I-“ she started, then stumbled and stopped.

“It was on the plane, wasn’t it?” he asked, like he knew and accepted the answer. “I could see it in your eyes.”

“It’s not that simple,” she said, avoiding his gaze. Her next words came out in a rushed whisper, a secret she didn’t mean to tell. “I searched for you.”

A small gasp caught between his lips. “You did?”

“After the Kasaavin took you,” she said. “After… I got your message.”

“Oh.” A sense of disappointment sunk his voice. “You wanted answers.”

She studied his face for a long time before speaking.

“I really thought-“

“What, Doctor?”

There was a fragile sort of urgency about him, like he needed her to continue but at the same time nothing terrified him more.

“We were so close,” she said, delicate, like she might break them both. “You said you were my friend. I wanted to believe it. Seeing you again, seeing you like that, made it impossible.”

Without a sound, he got up, deliberate yet cautious footsteps carrying him closer until he sat down at the open door of her cell. Expectantly, she moved to face him, no longer clinging to the bars that stood between them.

Dark eyes bore deep into hers. Persistence marked his features.

“I am your friend.”

“Are you?” she said, scouring him for any sign of contradiction or lie. “I’ve been your friend for lifetimes. It was never enough.”

“For you,” he retorted, and she could see it in every line on his face, every slight change in his expression – the accusations. That if she loved him she would’ve stayed.

“For you,” she repeated, matching his temper. Because if he loved her, he would’ve caused her less pain.

Hair fell over his eyes, head shaking ever so slightly. “You’re wrong,” he said. “Of course it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

A trembling hand rose to meet her face, fingers hovering over her temple, a question in his eyes. Without missing a beat, she nodded, allowing him in. His touch pressed warm and familiar against her skin, first his left hand then the right. Careful eyes lingered over her one last time before guiding their foreheads together.

By instinct, her eyes shut.

Out of the usual blackness, another scene unfurled around her.

Tall trees, dark green under a fading sun, created the illusion of a wild forest. An elevator stood to the right, almost out of place, its design still familiar enough to recognize.

This was the colony ship. This was where, in another life, they last said goodbye.

She blinked, and two Masters appeared before her. 

The younger was prepared to leave, the elevator open and waiting. He turned around, but Missy hadn’t moved. Instead, she stuck her umbrella in the forest floor. She was poised and elegant as ever, but her lips stretched into a thin line – a smile that wasn’t fully there.

Locked into the role of an observer, the Doctor stood paralyzed as Missy beckoned her younger self closer, and pulled him in a tight embrace that came away covered in blood.

They were both still smiling when she confirmed he was dying, when she held him up, when she helped him to the door.

Collapsed inside the elevator, the younger Master called after her.

“Missy, seriously, _why?_ ”

She turned around to face him with a distinct lack of remorse or grief. “Oh, because he’s right,” she said, and the words echoed in the Doctor’s mind, an effect manufactured only in memory. A sign it’s been overplayed. “Because it’s time to stand with him. It’s where we’ve always been going and it’s happening now, today. It’s time to stand with the Doctor.”

Missy plucked her umbrella out of the ground and walked away, her back to her past, her dying self yelling in protest with every step.

Then a flash of light blinded the world – a laser from the Master’s old screwdriver – and Missy was down, sprawled lifeless between the dirt and the fallen leaves.

 _Missy…_ The Doctor watched in a stupor. _She fell where she stood._

_She stood for me._

The Master loosened his grip, but his hands still hung around her face, barely brushing her cheeks. His eyes fluttered open, still close, his long lashes soiled with dust and tears.

For just a moment, she looked at him, and she understood. He was born in an act of self destruction. Maybe he believed that was all he was capable of.

She didn’t move away. Tentatively, she brought her hand up to his, pressing him closer. Their foreheads still touched, their breaths mingled. Slow and gentle, the Master ran his fingers through the edges of her hair. She wasn’t brave enough to look.

Her eyes closed. His forehead realigned itself against hers.

He kissed her, a light touch on the lips, and she kissed back, harder. Her hands found his chest, holding him where the lapels of his coat would’ve been, and pulled him towards her. He leaned into her touch, fingers reaching further into the back of her hair, skimming across every curve of her skin. From the jut of her jaw to the small of her back, every contact was seared into her bones. It was unreal, and unrushed, and it was painful.

For just a moment, she held him close, and it burned.

With the slightest touch and a shaky breath, she nudged him back, breaking away from their kiss.

An apology sounded through her hushed voice, and it cracked. “I-“

“It’s still not enough, is it?” he said, frustrated and aching, but his hands still rested softly at the sides of her head. “I died for you.”

“And did it change anything?” she said, quiet, and let go of his clothes. “That’s the trouble with us. The games. The betrayals. Maybe they’re all we know now. It’s hard to trust anything else.”

Brushing against her one last time, his arms fell away from her sides, his attention turned to the ground.

“You won’t even tell me why.”

A long exhale sounded as he collected himself.

“Gallifrey deserved to burn,” he whispered, and there was no guilt in it. In a flash, his eyes were on her again, inescapable. “Not because it was right. Nothing about what I did was justified or moral. That was never the point.”

“Then what was?” she pleaded. “Why go through all that trouble?”

“I told you already. Because I wanted to.” A pause, as he breathed, a calm conviction setting over his features. “Gallifrey was a failed experiment. It failed the universe during the Time War. It failed you the second you set foot under its twin suns. And it failed me, enough to want to tear it apart. So I did.”

She only stared at him. “Revenge? That’s your answer?”

“Maybe,” he mused, turning away from her. “But revenge is too personal for destruction so massive. I think… I did it because I could. I wanted to see how far I could go.” He stopped again, then peered at her ever so slightly, his voice losing volume and momentum but the words coming out anyway. “There was nothing to stop me.”

She froze in her spot.

Her hearts skipped a beat, loud in her ears, breath caught in her throat.

There was a familiarity in his words she wasn’t willing to face. An impulse they shared, when left unattended. Whether fueled by justice or rage, it was the same loss of control.

 _Sometimes,_ a voice rang in her head, centuries old but never forgotten. Donna’s voice. _I think you need someone to stop you._

He wasn’t accusing her, but she couldn’t help but wonder how different things would’ve been if she was there by his side.

“You’re wrong,” she said eventually, the jagged words tearing through her on their way out, leaving her weak. “I do understand.”

“No, you don’t,” he insisted, but it was tired. “Because you still don’t believe they deserved it.”

“And you do?”

“I do.”

A beat passed. She hesitated, but the words fell out of her mouth anyway.

“How many children, Master?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, no dismissal in his voice. “How many did you count?”

“2.47 billion.” She looked him over, slowly, remembering something Missy had once told her behind the locked doors of the vault. “Do you still remember their names?”

His mouth hung open, and then shut tight. His face turned away from her. Not in shame or betrayal, but in way of admission.

Memory was what cast his features in shadow, but conviction was what kept him away.

She nodded, once, a small movement of her head, a signal she understood. A movement that wished to lean into him, to feel his forehead against hers just one more time.

Then she got up, and walked past him, putting enough distance between them to make up for the closeness she destroyed.

::::::::

“It’ll never work, you know?” he said, a few hours later, sitting in the middle of the corridor. “I’ll never be the version of good you want me to be. We can only ever have each other in chains.”

She thought back to the year that never was, then the vault, then the present.

Looking up, she was met only with a distant, mournful gaze.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The music piece mentioned in this chapter is what Missy plays in the vault during Lie of the Land when Bill and the Doctor walk in to ask for her help just in case anyone was wondering  
> And again thank you to anyone who read this far! Chapter 5 will be posted Soon™ or at the very least by the end of the week


	5. In Time

Outside, beyond the dungeons and the heat and the aching, the prison roared to life.

The Doctor was the first to notice.

Stood in her corner, fingers stroking the wall, the noise disrupted her as she counted and recounted her days – from the nine tallies marking her current stay, to the hundreds commemorating her last visit. 

She lost count at 313.

With an exasperated sigh, she turned to the entrance doors and pressed an ear against them. Footsteps, swift but heavy, and getting louder, were heard muffled through the door. Cries of resistance and distress went unanswered, until the unmistakable sound of someone being pushed to the floor resounded through the stone.

“Please, it wasn’t me!” someone called, terror striking their voice as they hit the ground. “You have to believe me!”

“You’re a prisoner,” said a Judoon guard, monotone as usual. “You’ve lost your right to trust.”

The Doctor shook her head in both sympathy and disapproval. She’s always hated Judoon law. It was too strict, too harsh. More blind obedience than justice, and more cruelty than protection.

And then it hit her. There was nothing on this level but the dungeons.

They were sending another prisoner here.

This was much sooner than she expected. Rules in the prison were rarely broken, if not due to the high alert security system than due to pure fear.

But one thing was certain. The Judoon didn’t like their prisoners mingling.

If someone was getting in, she – and the Master – were getting out.

“Please!” the prisoner begged. “There was a man! He forced me to cooperate. I couldn’t-“

“Get up,” the Judoon demanded.

A stifled whimper sounded as the walking persisted. “I couldn’t have made such a hole in the door on my own.”

Behind her, the Master called out, a single eyebrow raised. “What are you doing?”

“Shhh!” A finger to her lips, she cast him a warning glare before turning back to the door.

“There was no man,” the Judoon held his ground. “No one breaks into a Judoon facility.”

He was right. Breakout attempts may have been sparse, but during the whole of the Doctor’s imprisonment break-ins were entirely unheard of.

She turned around, and found the Master standing closer, halfway to the door.

“What’s going on?”

The subtle clank of metal – the guards’ weapons – accompanied the looming footsteps now, the prisoner’s sobs sharper and more panicked. She didn’t have to strain to hear them anymore. Her eyes widened.

“They’re coming.”

“Who?”

She ducked out of the way at the last second, and the doors opened.

Three guards circled an alarmed Draconian. Two at his sides, one at his back. He was tall and green and reptilian, his facial features accented with pointed ears, scaly skin and a short beard. The desperation in his eyes suggested he’d spent a large portion of his life in a cell.

Just by looking at him, the Doctor couldn’t believe he’d be lying.

Then she noticed the guards. They were missing one for a standard escort. Somewhere in the prison, something was going on that required their attention. Despite what they were saying, they didn’t believe he was lying either.

“You – in,” the guard on the left, closest to her, ordered, shoving the Draconian forward. “You two – out.”

The Master shot her a quick, questioning look. She nodded briefly, a sign to cooperate, that it was okay.

He studied the guards. “Where are you taking us?”

“Back to your cells,” the same Judoon spoke, and pointed his gun at them, clearly impatient. “Now move.”

The doors closed behind them with a heavy shudder, and a thud that bounced off the walls. The Doctor let out a small, thankful breath, and reveled in the relatively fresh air before being rushed forward.

The walk was long, and the corridors empty. She knew something was up, something was _wrong_ , but she could find no evidence of it. Step by step, floor by floor, the prison appeared unchanged. Patrols passed undisturbed. The alarm remained silent. But the air was tense, and the guards kept looking around as if waiting for something to happen.

They walked, and walked, and walked.

And she tripped.

The ground slipped out from under her, and for one frightening second the floor hung below her, further than it should’ve been.

The Master grabbed her arm, pulling her back in line. “Careful, dear.”

His hand dropped as soon as she steadied. With a step back, the hole in the floor that nearly got her came into view. It was in the shape of a perfect square.

“Only you could miss a hole this size,” the Master pointed.

“Go around it,” the guard in the back barked, and nudged them both with his gun. “Now.”

They obeyed without another word.

Every hallway in the prison was identical, but her cell still stood out, familiar and almost welcoming as they neared. Maybe it was the slightly ajar hatch embedded in the door, or the fact that she’s walked this same exact route before.

“They really brought us back,” the Master spoke beside her, but instead of relief his voice was tinged with something else. “How have you managed that?”

“Me?” she asked, her nose pulled in confusion. “That had nothing to do with me.”

They reached their respective cells now. The guards got to work unlocking the doors for them, and grabbed the Master first. His eyes locked on hers, unmoving as they urged him inside.

“Well,” he said. “It’s just your luck.”

This time, she recognized the twang of bitterness in his voice for what it was. Regret.

The return to her cell, that in the past provided a distorted sense of release, like coming home, now felt incredibly lonely.

He held her gaze for a long moment before the door slammed behind him.

When her own cell opened, the guards didn’t need to force her in. She walked inside of her own accord, with none the free will but all the acceptance of a practiced prisoner.

::::::::

A blue light flashed and devoured the center of her door, leaving behind only a gaping hole.

There was no warning, no signs of conflict or chase, except for a low thud as if someone just fell through the ceiling.

The Doctor rushed to her feet. It was another perfect square.

“Doctor!” a voice called. It had a distinct American accent. “That is you, right?”

She only had one American friend.

The face of Captain Jack Harkness popped up on the other side. A big grin dominated her features.

“I’d hate to get it wrong again,” he said, flashing her one of his trademark charming smiles. “Though I wouldn’t object to taking _you_ aboard.”

“Oh, don’t start,” she complained, her laughter barely contained. “You really haven’t changed a bit.”

It was true. Bar a few extra wrinkles lining his face and the slightly darker shade of brown that suggested he’d been dying his hair, he looked exactly the same.

Seeing him again, here, after so many years trapped and alone, provided a sense of relief she didn’t believe she was capable of anymore.

“Ha! It is you,” Jack beamed, a similar triumph in his eyes. “Love the new look, by the way. The blonde suits you.”

“Stop it,” she emphasized. “Can’t you, just once, behave?”

“Don’t I always?” he grinned, and she rolled her eyes. “I’m going to let you out now. We don’t have much time before the Judoon realize my dead body isn’t where they left it.”

“Wait! I can’t just walk out. It’ll trigger the security system.”

“Oh, I know,” he groaned. “Had a whole thing of that when I arrived. Crashed through the roof straight into someone’s cell. The poor Draconian was so scared he barely took the chance to escape. But don’t worry, I have a plan.”

Through the open square, he tossed her a necklace – shiny metal hung on worn string.

“Is that – a key to my TARDIS?”

“Perception filter,” he corrected. “Got it from Yaz. They’re really worried about you, you know?”

At the mention of the fam, her tone turned hollow. “They should think I’m dead.”

“Not for long, they won’t,” he reassured. “Come on, we’re getting you out.”

With a pang of guilt, she realized, over a thousand years have passed since they last met. She never bothered to pay him a visit, and yet here he was, rescuing her from one of the most secure prisons in the galaxy.

“I did miss having you around, Jack,” she smiled, sincere and almost apologetic.

He winked back, cheeky as ever. “It’s only natural.”

Taking a step back, he aimed the gun at the door again. A portion of the lower middle was sliced off in another square, then the bottom, taking out just a little bit of the floor with it.

Stunned, she stared at the open path before her, then at Jack again.

“That’s a squareness gun,” she pointed out.

“Sonic blaster,” he specified, a light chuckle to his tone. “You’re a bit slow today, aren’t you, Doctor?”

“Didn’t I destroy that factory?”

“Yes, you did,” he said, proud of himself. “It’s a good thing I was there again opening day.”

She shook her head, not the least bit surprised. “Of course you were.”

“It’s good to have you back.” His smile was so broad it was all she could focus on as he approached her, enveloping her in a big hug. It was warm and comforting and easy, and she let the feeling wash over her. In this life, it was entirely new.

Her arms wrapped around his back in return, and the alarm blared through the halls of the prison. A second too late, she realized she moved over the line.

Jack jumped away, serious again. “We gotta go.”

He reached for her hand, ready to lead her down the corridor in a run, when her eyes landed on the Master’s cell.

Jack pulled her forward, right past it. And then a swift _woosh_ sounded – a small hatch sliding open.

“Doctor.”

The Master’s voice.

There was a question in his tone, an uncertainty she wasn’t willing to turn back and look in the eyes.

Jack stopped in his tracks, but she remained rooted to the ground. She only watched as he turned around to face the Master.

“This a friend of yours?” he asked, one eyebrow raised. Then, directed at the Master: “Need a ride?”

“No,” the Doctor burst, too quick.

But he _was_ her friend.

_“You could- come with me.”_

His earlier offer echoed in her mind, twisting at her hearts, but she stood firm.

There were consequences to letting him go. Costs she wasn’t willing to pay.

_How many lives in exchange for your freedom?_

But she was his friend too.

_How long before you prove me wrong?_

“Doctor,” he said, again, a plea covering up a rising fury. A plea for her side.

She remembered the Matrix chamber, his voice ricocheting off the wall with the sound of her name. She remembered all those bodies no longer in the vaults, his latest victims. She saw Jack, in front of her, unaware he’s offering help to the same man who spent a year torturing him.

The alarm continued to blast in the background, barely registered in her dilemma. The floor shook under the weight of approaching guards.

“We have to go,” Jack warned. “Now.”

But it was too late.

Two guards rounded the corner to their left, then three more further on the right. It was a long corridor, but they saw them now, and they were running, guns ready to fire in hand.

“Shit,” Jack muttered, quickly surveying the scene. “Nothing’s ever simple with you, is it Doctor?” He turned back to look at her, but there was no grudge in his eyes. “Use the perception filter. Stay back. I’ll hold them off.”

Without waiting for an answer, he leapt forward, squareness gun raised in the air. He was going for the duo of guards on the left. With one shot, he opened up a hole in the floor, sending one of them screaming through.

She clenched her fist tighter around the TARDIS key, unsure how to help. Behind her, a warm hand clasped at her shoulder, turning her around towards the face she feared most.

The Master’s, in pieces.

“Are you really going to leave me here?”

Her eyes lingered on his, brown and deep and verging on an emotion she couldn’t name. Maybe betrayal.

“Yes,” she said, like she didn’t know until that very moment.

“You still don’t trust me.”

“I do.” Carefully, her slender fingers wrapped around his open palm, removing it from her shoulder. With only their joined hands between them, she pressed tight. She stood there; taking in his curled lashes, his quivering lips, his floppy hair and silky skin, and spoke with a pained certainty. “In chains.”

“Coast’s clear!” Jack’s voice came into focus.

There were no guards in sight.

Eye contact maintained, her hand slid from out of their touch.

His stare was like daggers in her back as she caught up to Jack. Never looking back, she did what she did best.

She ran.

::::::::

Alone in his cell, the Master stood stunned.

Between the Doctor’s figure getting smaller in the distance, and her touch still lingering on his skin, he was rendered useless.

Sharp nails dug into his palm, attempting to claw away the ghost of her hand in his, and then stopped.

He didn’t realize he was holding something.

Cool and smooth in his now open hand was a key. A perception filter.

No – it was more than that. The Doctor left it behind for a reason.

He cracked a smile.

It was a way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last time, thanks so so much for all the kudos and the bookmarks and the comments and to anyone who subscribed!!  
> I lowkey hate ending on a bit of a cliffhanger but there you have it.  
> The sequel will pick up post-prison and focus on the Master's POV. I'm a slow writer so it could be a while before I post it but stay tuned


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